Solid metal, worked into a curved spike and affixed to a sturdy wooden haft. Her favorite tool. It made a distinct sound when it struck raw earth. But depending on the density of the earth, its consistency, what kind of rock it was and how it had formed over generations determined what exactly that clink would sound like. She could hear it again. Striking true as it always did. Every so often the sound was followed by the crumbling of sediments, loose pebbles and gravel giving way before the larger chunks were picked free. It was a simple thing. No more complex than a shovel or a hammer. Not like her drill, prone to collapse and wear. Just a little bit of sharpening, a polish and that pickaxe could work into hard stone for years at a time without repair. Sometimes you’d have to replace the haft. But that wouldn’t be an issue for decades.

Now she was digging. It was just her. Driving into stone, once, twice, three times… She struck it hard for a few rotations, then struck it soft. She heard it break and swept it aside with her hands to continue digging. Down she dug and dug still, where was she going? She didn’t rightly know, but she knew this was the way. She had no sense of orientation or direction, a void suffused her. Nothing but black. She had tried to hold her hand up to her face, no matter how close she brought it she couldn’t see her palm nor her fingers curling in the easy air. She’d been digging for countless hours. Maybe even days. Or weeks? She felt no discomfort. Her muscles didn’t strain and she never got tired. She was filled with a sense of determination. In the darkness something pulled at her heart, it told her to go this way, to keep digging until she reached her undetermined destination. She couldn’t tell what it was but she had an idea.

The warmth of this formless cavern was welcoming. The kind of warmth that bloomed from a campfire or a hearth. But that warmth was fleeting. She was moving away from it to a different kind of warmth. This warmth felt more personal, more living. She longed for it like nothing else in any plane of existence. A burning desire that raged within her. And as she struck into that stone she heard voices on occasion. Memories she reckoned.

“Three cave-ins over the course of one month?!”

Albion’s voice was like Hell’s fury manifesting in Mica’s ear. The uneasy feeling of being confined in his office in that leather cushioned chair sent chills down her spine. All his negativity focused down on her and her alone. She felt small and insignificant. Like her best wasn’t good enough. And that’s because it wasn’t good enough. The windows behind Albion’s office chair grew dark in her mind’s eye as the room broke apart before her like disparate shards of reality. She shook her head and let the memory go, driving with a little more urgency than before.

Her mother, Violane’s sweet voice found her in the dark next, dancing around her eardrums like a bedtime melody. “Do you know why diamonds are so rare, Mica?” She asked.

“Why, Mumma?” Mica whispered back, still striking and digging. Her voice rang twice, once from her own mouth and another time in the back of her mind. A younger, happier Mica mirrored her words as if it were sunshine to her rain.

“Because, when diamonds are formed deep beneath Bandle they have to journey up and up to the surface. It’s a very long and arduous journey, so not all of the diamonds make it. And even then, some of the diamonds aren’t as perfect as others.”

“Why’s that, mumma?” Mica droned, her childish, bubbly self matching her word for word.

“Because, dear, not all diamonds are made the same.” She could hear Violane’s smile and pictured her row of near perfect white teeth again.

“Am I a diamond, Mumma?”

“You are a diamond, sweetie!” Violane laughed. “Making your way up every year. And when you get older you’re going to shine so very bright, I just know it.”

Mica could feel the comfort of a warm bed enveloping her and her Mother’s gentle palm against her forehead. Her old room, decorated with twinkling recreations of the very gems her Mother worked with reflected the lazy light that expanded out from her bedside lamp. At night the light found the glass of her false gems, refracting off them to scatter across the walls with motes of dancing light. A sudden softness replaced the palm against her forehead. Her Mother’s lips found her just as she pulled the beaded cord on the lamp, shrouding Mica in inky darkness once more. The creaking of a wooden door announced her Mother’s exit. She was gone. Mica opened her eyes to see darkness still.

She grit her teeth as tears formed in her eyes and ran down her cheeks, burning like molten metal against her skin. “But I’m not a diamond, Mumma! I’m not the diamond you wanted me to be!” Mica let go her frustration in a somber wail. Her pickaxe crashed down as the warmth she was chasing broke through like a vent of rising steam. Dim light shone ahead, illuminating her overworked arms and blackened hands. She nearly gasped at the sight of it. Her sense of purpose was renewed and she dug.

“You know, kiddo, when I was your age I was down shoveling coal and hauling metal at the railyard.” Her Father’s depth found her ears as she struggled against the rock. “Loading it up into the very trains I work on now. I’m saying this to say…” Her Father paused, his old leather boots squeaking as he squatted down in her mind’s impression. “If you put your mind to it and really work hard, there’s nothing you can’t do in this world, kiddo. You hear me?”

Mica ran the back of one dirty palm across her wetted cheek. “I hear you, Daddy.”

More light, more light. She drove hard into the earth, pressing her boot into it to break a path forward. It shattered before her, the hole growing wider with every frantic strike against its perimeter. She peeled away at the rock with her bare hands now, reaching through but failing to shrink into its width. She pried harder, gripping her pick again to hammer away at it with violent jabs. Mica was grunting and screaming and sobbing. Not even bedrock at Terra’s core could stop her now. Her anguish was too much, she had to escape. The sides melted just enough for her to squeeze into and she was enveloped in light and wholesome warmth. The warmth of another against her.

Metronomic bleats of machinery and the hissing of contraptions summoned her back to reality. The sounds of the pickaxes quieted as aching pain wracked her person, consuming all of her in gradual waves that wore at her sanity. Or, most of her. Mica’s eyes opened to see the sanitized walls of Bandle City Hospital. She knew it well enough. On occasions where mining incidents brought about severe injury or maybe even casualty, those miners were brought here. Thankfully she had only ever come here to visit others, that is, until now.

Her recollection of how exactly she ended up here was fuzzy, but one thing she did remember was the voices of her crewmen. Nickel, Quill, even Deacon. The shouts of those fleeing miners echoed in her skull something fierce. But it was quieted the moment she realized she was being embraced. Her eyes ran along the curtain that secluded her from the rest of the room and down towards the familiar length of braided black-cobalt hair. She could hardly feel Chelle lying atop her. Her hand shakily extended out to run her fingers through Chelle’s braid.

Chelle jolted awake at being touched, looking left, right and then up towards Mica. Her mouth opened to speak but she choked on her emotion, only managing a shaky exhale. Tears welled in her eyes and Mica wiped them away with a thumb. Relief registered on Chelle’s torn visage but not on Mica’s. All she could feel was radiant joy at finally seeing Chelle’s face again.

“I love you.” Mica finally confessed in her groggy tone.

Chelle’s tears flowed like spring rivers down her cheeks. Those simple three words broke her heart in more ways than one. Nothing could keep Chelle from lunging into Mica, now. Mica grunted in pain but that didn’t matter. They embraced and made intimate eye contact, a look of understanding finally confirmed. Chelle’s pounding heart urged her forward into a kiss, the first of many more. It was something they’d both dreamed about, but to feel each other so profoundly was beyond explanation. It was a wordless exchange, only cut short by an unlikely interruption.

“Ahem…”

The both of them spun to see the doctor stood behind the now opened curtain. They separated out of embarrassment and made themselves as presentable as possible. The older doctor was soon joined by a young female nurse and a third male hospital healer. Something about their expressions filled her with dreary anticipation. Her heart sank into her stomach as the doctor flipped through the parchment on his clipboard.

“I hope I wasn’t intruding.” He said with a half-chuckle.

Mica shook her head.

“Very well, then. It’s good to see you’re awake. You’ve been out for a few weeks.” He gestured towards the bedside table where a myriad of wilting flower arrangements, treats and cards awaited her attention.

Mica immediately recognized several signatures. Violane, her Mother. Coal, her Father. Cobalt, her Brother and Rutile, her Sister. Another from Dixxy and another from Case. She glanced back to the doctor, too distracted to bother with her gifts just yet.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, running a hand through his salt and peppered hair.

She could tell he was nervous about something. She almost didn’t want to entertain his theatrics. But she did anyway. “Not so good, if I’m honest.”

The doctor sighed. “Well, there’s no easy way to say this… Our best medical professionals and in-house healers did what they could, but we believe the issue stems from some sort of head trauma. Do you remember taking any bumps on your way out of the collapsing shaft?”

“Issue…” Mica squinted in confusion. “What issue?”

Chelle sat up as the doctor’s expression melted into somber seriousness. “Yeah, what do you mean? You said she was going to be okay…”

“Well, yes, at first it only looked like a broken leg. But during your concussion our healers sensed that… The connection between your brain and your legs was severed, presumably from the head trauma that couldn’t be solved through arcana. You’re… Paralyzed from the waist down, Mica… I’m… So sorry…”

Mica’s eyes went wide as she panned down to the length of the sheets where she knew her legs to be. The pain, she felt it everywhere, but… Not in her legs. She sat up in hopes of leaving the bed. Her arms extended out, her torso levered off the pillows behind her but her legs didn’t move. Panic set in as she struggled in place, hoping a switch in her brain would flip itself and allow her locomotion again, but the more she tried the more reality settled.

“Y-... You can’t be serious! You said she would be fine! You said everything was going to be okay!” Chelle’s anger was palpable. Her hair broke apart into medusan tendrils that threatened to strangle the doctor where he stood.

Mica shifted the bed sheets to place a hand against her thigh. Nothing. She pinched at the skin around her knee. She could move the excess and feel the light velvet tufts of fur against her fingers, but not her legs. Her hips writhed at her command, twitching. But the signals that used to travel through her body and down her legs were now rendered inert. It was a strange feeling, not having her body obey her thoughts. Twisting her arms still felt natural, but the same motion didn’t cause her legs to respond. Maybe if she thought about it hard enough they would return, but every attempt had failed thus far.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, there’s nothing else we can do!” The doctor cowarded behind his clipboard as Chelle approached.

“You’re lying! Get someone else! Anyone else! Fix this!!” Chelle growled.

“Chelle…” Mica droned.

“It’s okay, Mica… Everything’s going to be okay.” Chelle assured her.

“No, Chelle-”

“I’ll get you the help you need, I’ll make this right!”

“Chelle, stop!” Mica shouted, freezing her partner. “I just… I just want to go home. Please…”

Chelle’s tears hadn’t stopped, even in her wrath. She nodded and sniffled, turning to the medical staff. “Bring us a wheelchair and get her out of that stuff!” She directed them with a finger.

“I wouldn’t recommend leaving so soon, miss Mica isn’t done hea-” The doctor began, but was silenced by a furious glare in his direction. “R-Right away.”

Mica’s abode was nestled into a small hillock in an expanse of grassy knolls on the outskirts of Bandle City. The land further out was ripe for cultivation and so many farmers decided to literally live off the topography and build houses in the hummocks just south of the city. It was an environmentally friendly way of providing a home, plus it was cozy and separated those peace loving Yordles from the hustle and bustle of Bandle. The hills here in the Southern Reach were lush with finely bladed green grass and a path that stretched between each barrow home. Most of them had a single wooden facade with windows, rounded doors and picket fences to cordon off a front yard. These front yards were alive with garden flowers and tailored shrubbery.

Kids played as the afternoon became evening, providing a hopeful setting for their hopeless plight. Chelle pushed Mica along in her wheelchair as they made their way silently to their home. Chelle had no idea how to address Mica. She could only stare at the back of her head and attempt forming a sentence to no avail. Today was bittersweet and she just wanted it to be over.

Chelle produced her keys and plugged the lock, twisting it open. Then it was back to Mica to wheel her through and close the door. A weight lifted off her shoulders as the door shut behind them. “I uh- Everything is cleaned up, exactly how you like it. How… How are you feeling?”

Chelle led them through the halls. The interior was formed into a cross-section with four corridors meeting in the central, circular sunken foyer. To the left led to the kitchen and dining nook. To the right the hall bathroom and Chelle’s bedroom. And straight ahead was Mica’s bedroom. The rounded hallways were insulated with roughly hewn wood and sheetrock. More wooden beams stretched across the ceiling the support the weight of the hillock above and tile transitioned to wooden slats layered with rugs. The arcane electricity that flowed through their home was activated with a simple flick of a runic stone, providing warm lighting.

Mica looked up at the rune she was once able to reach with ease and a little more of her died inside. “Don’t ask me that.”

“I’m sorry, Mica. I… Actually, I can fix this!” Chelle lit up with sudden excitement as she wheeled Mica down into the foyer.

“Enough, Chell.”

“No- No, really! We can fix this! Lois!” Chelle rounded to place herself before Mica.

“What about her?” Mica sighed.

“Well, she does her blood thing, right? All we have to do is find her.” Chelle began to pace.

“Lois is very powerful but if the best healers in Bandle can’t solve this issue, I don’t think she can either.” Mica’s optimism wasn’t nearly what it had been, and for good reason.

“But, you’ve seen what she can do. She cuts herself all the time and heals herself instantly, it took those healers days to do what they did and it wasn’t enough. Mica, if there’s a chance, we have to try.” Chelle pleaded.

“I-... I don’t know...” Mica rolled herself towards the bedroom where Chelle helped her up the small flight immediately after. She came to rest beside her bed, unable to make eye contact with Chelle. “I’m just so tired of everything… Maybe this happened for a reason?”

“Don’t say that, Mica. Listen to me…” Chelle fought for her attention, setting down the flowers and notes to eventually kneel down and steal Mica’s eye contact. Mica fought to look away from her but Chelle used her braid to refocus her. “Listen! I know things took a turn for the terrible but it is not your fault. I’m going to make this right, not just for you, but for us.”

Mica nearly choked on those words. “It is not your fault.” She shook her head free of Chelle’s influence and buried her face in her hands. “It is my fault, Chell… I’m the one who caused the explosion.”

“What?” Chelle took a step forward. “What do you mean?”

“I got angry again… Angry at my situation, at myself- at the world. I let it get to me and I struck too hard. I opened up a pocket and it combusted...“ Mica sniffled as she struggled to keep back tears for the second time today. “I don’t even know if half my team is alive. Nickel, Quill, Darel, Deacon… They could all be buried, their families won’t even get a body… I killed them and this is my punishment.”

“Mica, no. That was an accident and you know it. Our emotions get the better of us all the time, it is not your fault.” Chelle replied, attempting to shake some sense back into her.

Mica shrugged her away and reached out for her bed. Chelle enveloped her with her hair and lifted her up onto the fur covered mattress. She hated that. She was completely helpless now. She couldn’t even get into her own bed without assistance. She wanted to refuse Chelle and tell her she didn’t need her help, but she did. She was even more useless than when she was able bodied. Something she doubted was possible until now.

Chelle flicked the rune on the wall with her hair and killed the lights after shovelling some fresh kindling into the fireplace. Then she joined Mica in her bed. It was a new experience, one she could hardly think about in the way she used to. She just wanted to be close to Mica, to comfort and love her. That’s what she needed right now. Chelle peeled the sheets away and nestled close to her partner. Mica was hardly receptive, only going so far as to turn into Chelle.

“I’m going to Ionia as soon as you’re comfortable here. Lois will help us.” Chelle whispered.

“If you can find her.” Mica said, dryly.

“I will. No matter what it takes… You took care of me, now it’s my turn to take care of you.”

Mica bit her bottom lip hard, even her depression couldn’t hold against that. “I love you, Chell. I really do.”

“I love you, too, Mica… I always have.” Chelle smiled.

Mica couldn’t fall asleep. No matter how long she closed her eyes, fatigue never quite gripped her. She looked at Chelle who had finally dozed off. Chelle was a wild sleeper with a peaceful face. It had taken her some hours to find comfort and fall asleep herself. Mica didn’t blame her, she was probably exhausted in that hospital room. Chelle deserved every hour of rest and then some. Her eyes lulled to the bedside dresser where her tablets and her gifts sat. She reached out but came up short, dragging herself a little closer.

Her wandering hand bypassed the medication to get to the letters, scooping them all over onto the bed where she sat up. She opened them up one by one, starting with her parents. They read exactly how she imagined they would. “The doctor says you’ll be back to normal in no time!” Her Mother’s read, “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there when you woke, you know how work is over here. I’ll be seeing you real soon, kiddo.” Her Father’s said. They claimed they were so thankful she was alive. She believed them. But the fact she even doubted that in the first place scared her. How would they respond to the news that she was a paraplegic? She could only imagine...

Her ears twitched as she ran a finger over her Mother’s stylistic hand writing in the dark. Her eyes were well adjusted to it at this point. She flicked it closed and set it back in the envelope with a sigh. Now it was time for her siblings. First was Cobalt. She removed the seal on the envelope and peeled the letter free, unfolding it to read.

“Hey, little sister. I came as soon as I heard what happened. One of your team members was there. Case was her name, I think. She said you scampered out of there like some superhero. No quit in you, I see. Attagirl…”

She closed her eyes tight and folded the letter closed again. She couldn’t read anymore than that. Her heart couldn’t bear the praise or the positivity right now. As much as Chelle said she wasn’t at fault, her conscience said otherwise. Mica slipped it back inside and placed it down beside the other two. Her palm moved for Rutile’s envelope but froze a moment, picking it up and moving it to the side instead. She found Case’s envelope, tugging at the seal that proved to be stubborn. In her frustration she tore the fine paper in half, spilling the envelope’s contents. The letter fell open before her as if fate refused to let her procrastinate.

Her eyes settled on the well written, “Dear, Mica…” And a groan built in her throat that she kept back out of respect for Chelle.

“I just want to begin by saying I am so sorry for what happened. No one can predict these things, the best we can do is take precautions and react, but you handled yourself well, boss. You really ran like hell out of there. Saw you with my own eyes. Sablestone is in shambles right now, the law has gotten involved, too. That was the biggest explosion since the Deep Six went up. All in all the company might be going under. I know someone who can get us some work though when you’re back up and moving around…”

The next few sentences were thoroughly marked out with black ink, providing a foreboding bridge to the next paragraph. Mica inhaled deep, taking a moment to prepare herself for what she knew was soon to come. Some of the words were speckled with splotches of darker, harder paper. Dry tears.

“I figured you might want to know what’s up with the rest of our section. It’s pretty bad, I’m not going to lie to you, boss. Only read this when you’re ready…” She didn’t hesitate to read further, she had to have some kind of closure.

“ Okay, so excavation hasn’t turned up anything on Nickel, Blink or Quill. They got positive identification on Darel, though. He got pretty close to the mouth when it all came down, I didn’t see him go…” Another streak of black redacted several sentences of text before it continued.

“Dixxy is pretty torn up about it. She’s been drinking herself to death, I can’t say a damn thing to her. I’m afraid she might do something terrible, boss, you have to help me. I was hoping maybe you could say something? Or maybe we could try together? I know it’ll take a long time before she’s whole again, I just want to start her healing sooner rather than later. Before it’s too late.” More black ink.

“And Deacon. He died in transit to the hospital. Too much internal bleeding. I was riding with him on the way, he was in bad shape. Really suffering. The healers wouldn’t have been able to do much with him. Wherever he is, I’m sure it’s better than how he would’ve ended up here. I already contacted their families. Sablestone moves too slow for my liking. Darel and Deacon’s funeral is undetermined as of me writing this. I’ll make sure to keep you updated as soon as I know you’re awake and healthy. If you need anything, anything at all, you know I’m on standby. I’ll see you soon, boss…”

“Keep your head up, Case.”

The deafening silence was only broken by the growing sound of her heart beating against her eardrums. She looked at the last paragraph, in particular the mention of Deacon. The weight of the whole Sablestone mountain range was resting on her shoulders, now. She felt as if she were being crushed into a fine paste just looking at the letter in her hand. She did this to herself. She could have backed out, she had several chances to. And now she knew that Darel and Deacon were dead, the others were missing and Dixxy was on the verge of suicide.

Mica looked now to Dixxy’s written letter. A sense of dread bored deep into her like a bullet and she shoved the sealed envelope off the bed and onto the floor with panicked breathing. It was so suddenly repulsive she couldn’t stand its presence. Not the red color of the envelope nor Dixxy’s signature. She was sweating and panting like an overworked animal. Each breath got shorter and shorter as the anxiety of her worst case scenario manifested in her head. Mica buried her face into the pillow and screamed. She just wanted this nightmare to end.